A Table for Three

    It is yet another quiet day at the dinner table. In the large room, painted an amber shade by the illuminated chandelier that overhangs, three blank faces appear grave. The food gives off an aroma that intensifies the silence, filling the empty room with something potent. After exhausting our efforts socializing, working, and trudging through daily activities, we sit at the dinner table to unwind. Having been through the storm of strong emotions, problems, and overwhelming experiences each day holds, such tranquil ambience rejuvenates the soul. Disturbing this peace is a slight tension in the air–a slight awkwardness that perturbes all three parties. The chance that the others would like to speak, to interact like a family should, overwhelms each person’s mind, yet the rare peaceful silence captures all sides’ interests. The freedom to finally watch your favorite show while replenishing the body with energy reigns over the unwelcome pressure to converse. 

    Some may perceive such circumstances as unhealthy as each individual appears to be in their own world, disregarding the others’ presence. Rather than taking the common approach, asking the golden question “How are you?”, each person stares at their own screens. Some may even believe these desires are selfish and get in the way of fostering true connections with others, but is it really selfish if both parties are receiving what they truly desire? Though not apparent, both parties may be enjoying each other’s company; without talking, connecting, or interacting like one would expect, they eat together in silence. Veiled underneath the mask that conforms to such expectations lies the true self; one that succumbs to personal wishes. In such circumstances, all parties have merely unshackled these constraints and let go of their masks. So in the end, the silence remains and all three relinquish their social interactions to achieve what they individually–or rather commonly–desire.